Keeper of Souls
by CeCe Away
Summary: Season 6 "Wouldn't want any careless infections to drag you back before you get your soul free and clear."
1. Chapter 1

**Inspiration slammed me in the head with one statement from T.L. Arens (Thanks, sweetie). I can't tell you what T said or it would give away the plot, but I'll put it at the end for anyone who's curious. **

**This takes place past 6.08 and beyond, though it's kind of AU since I have no delusions this is how Sam will get his soul back. Just a story that grabbed me by the throat and wouldn't let go. Enjoy. **

**Usual D's: Not mine. **

**Keeper of Souls **

"One Alpha Werewolf. Kibble's on the house." Dean toed the gigantic creature lying at his feet. The Big Bad was locked down with more than fifty chains with its veins pumping full of some kind of go-to-werewolf-dreamland concoction they'd had to go to Granpappy for. Not that Dean relished going to Samuel for anything, but getting his brother's soul back took priority over his distaste at working with the old man. Hell, he'd been timeclocking for a demon. Why quibble?

Looking down at the Alpha Were, Crowley snapped his fingers and several demons appeared, wrenched the werewolf up as Dean backed away, and in a flash were gone just as quickly.

The whole thing was unnerving, but Dean crossed his arms, hiding his anxiousness. The wooded area they were in was still as though the very air held its breath. This was it. It'd taken three months to track down the Alpha and another week of trailing it, trying to discover exactly how to take it down, without actually taking it out so the beast would be undead and healthy enough to trade for Sam's soul.

"Get to snapping those digits again, Fergus," Dean growled, keyed up in his worry that everything might go south now that they were so close. God, in mere moments he could have his brother back. It took everything he had to keep from bouncing on his feet. "Sam's soul for the Alpha. That was the deal."

Crowley's hands slipped into his coat pockets. His gaze swept over the leaf-litter where the werewolf had just been. "Well, the thing about that is . . . there's a bit of red tape I have to get through first."

"He's lying," Sam spoke up. He'd been silent during the entire exchange, long hand pressing a bandana to his side where the Alpha Were got a good swipe in. His eyes narrowed on the self-proclaimed King of Hell. "He never did have it."

Dean's heart rate ramped up in speed. He imagined if there were any lingering minor werewolves in the area, it would sound like the frightened pulse of a wounded animal. He stepped up to Sam's side. Robo Sam was a lot of things Dean hated, but his methodical brain read body language like mathematical equations. "How can you tell?"

"He looks down first, then stares you straight in the face when he hands you the lie."

Crowley's gaze flipped up. He stepped right up beneath Sam's face and poked a finger at the hunter's side. "Best take care of that. Wouldn't want any careless infections to drag you back before you get your soul free and clear."

Sam didn't even blink. "Now he's deflecting."

Which wasn't at all what Dean wanted to hear. He wanted Crowley to have Sam's soul. Crowley was a son of a bitch, but he was a son of a bitch he could deal with. Demon or no demon, Dean lunged forward and grabbed Crowley by his lapels. "You slimy piece of crap—" His hands were suddenly clutching air and he was stumbling forward.

Crowley stood several feet away, smoothing out his jacket, his face red. He lifted a hand toward Sam, though he looked at Dean, roaring, "I warned you once what would happen if you lost composure and acted like you!"

A jangling sound tinkled across the air.

Dean and Crowley both jerked their heads toward Sam. Sam held his key ring up, the keys he no longer needed to the crappy Charger that Castiel took a header onto.

Crowley huffed. "Going for a drive, are you?"

Sam's features stretched into his new bitchface. Not the old one that used to pack all his annoyance into one expression, but this new one that appeared more as a facial shrug as Pinocchio attempted to convey any type of emotion that he thought he was supposed to show. It gave Dean the chills.

"Not me." Sam wiggled the keys, catching glints on the metal in the moonlight. Looking closer, Dean saw a few other trinkets hanging from the ring. A small cross, a few other religious symbols, something that looked like a curved tooth?

"See." Sam stepped closer to Crowley, dangling the keys right up into the demons face. "I remember Hell. All of it. All the blood and gore and screams and bones and torture." Dean's hands clenched, going numb. His throat muscles swelled, choking. He never wanted to hear this, especially not the way his brother recited it as though it was inconsequential. So calmly. It ripped Dean to shreds. "I remember other things too. Hell's walls are paper thin. You can hear everything."

"By design, Moose." Though it was said with venom, even Crowley seemed uncertain listening to Sam. "Thin walls and you get to hear all the fun the couple in the next room are having. Did you enjoy the other screams? The bones snapping?"

"Once you learn to tune that out, you can hear things beyond. Voices. Whispers. Plans. Knowledge. There's knowledge in Hell."

Sam's gaze shifted to his key chain and Crowley visibly paled. One side of Sam's lip twitched up. "Should have taken better inventory of what's yours, laddie."

Crowley went to snatch the key chain, but Sam pulled it back high out of his reach. "Did you really think I would let you walk away from Scotland with all of your bones?"

Dean looked at the little tooth swaying from the ring. Not a tooth. A bone.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "So what, you have my big toe. Going to make me stub it? Oh. My. That's going to hurt."

Sam stared at him and began reciting Latin.

"What's that?" Crowley took a step back. "What are you doing?" He looked to Dean. "What is he doing?"

Dean shrugged, enjoying the demon's discomfort. "What are you doing, Sam?" he asked blandly.

"Burning the rest of Crowley's bones."

Crowley whirled back. "That's impossible."

"Is it?" Sam went back to his recitation. "All I need is one piece to set off the others."

"Why you sodding little prick!" Crowley stepped forward. "I'm going to send you back to Hell right now."

Dean shouldered between them. Shifting back, Sam lifted the keys. "Just one word left, Crowley."

The demon stopped.

"The incantation's in place. Just one word and your bones are toast. And I can still say it from Hell, so if you want to send me back, go ahead."

Crowley glared. Finally he rolled his head, cracking his neck before straightening his collar. "Fine. You win this round."

"Yep," Dean said. "Looks like you're our little bitch."

Crowley's lips pressed into a thin line. Dean smiled widely. He was loving this. He rubbed his hands together, getting some warmth with the friction. "Now you listen to me, you punk-ass demon. You're done playing us. No more lies. Where is Sam's soul?"

Crowley's eyes bulged even larger. "I don't know."

Sam lifted the keys, lowered his head, and said one syllable in Latin.

"All right! Just stop."

Sam stopped.

"I really don't know the whereabouts of said soul. Just wait." Crowley flung out a hand. "I can tell you where it's not. It's not in Hell. Not in any nook, labyrinth, fire pit, or Lucifer's cage. Never was. As it turns out, Hell wasn't equipped to contain a soul that didn't belong there. Got spit out almost immediately."

Dean looked to Sam for confirmation.

Sam shook his head, his forehead creasing. "He's not lying."

"So where'd it go?" Dean turned back to get more answers, but the demon was gone. Guess Crowley felt he fulfilled his bitch quota for the day.

"Dude!" Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder. "That was awesome! So now we have Crowley on the collar?"

"At least until he figures out that I was bluffing."

Dean stilled. "There is no bone burning spell?"

Sam shrugged.

"Is that even his bone?"

"Yeah. I thought it might come in handy for . . . " Sam grimaced, pressed the bandana more firmly to his side. It was saturated with blood.

Dean frowned. "Oh, here. You should sit down."

Sam put his hand out, stopping Dean from assisting him. "I got it," he said, lowering to the ground on his own steam.

"Yeah, okay," Dean said, hurt by the reminder that this was still not his brother and the best lead they had to getting his soul back had just gone bust. He still hovered though, still lowered to his knees beside Sam, because . . . well, dammit, because soul or no soul, this was still part of Sam and he was still hurt . . . besides, well, when he got his brother's soul back, he was going to need his body in one piece. So Cyborg Sam could just deal with Dean worrying.

He about jumped out of his skin when Sam's hand clamped over his forearm.

"Dean. I'm afraid."

The quiet admission made him flinch, made his heart collide powerfully against his ribcage. It sounded so much like his Sam, it felt like the world had come to a complete stop. Dean's gaze lifted to Sam's and his muscles turned to gelatin. Sam's brows were drawn down over troubled eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean heard himself whisper.

Sam's head tilted. "I wasn't lying to Crowley. I do remember Hell and . . ." His eyes darted. "I'm not _afraid_ afraid. Yet I am." He lifted his bloody hand from his side. "This hurts and it doesn't bother me, not really, but I know that anytime I get hurt, I can die, and I will be ripped back to Hell. Hell hurts. That bothers me on some level." His brows squeezed harder in the way they did when Sam tried to verbalize what he couldn't feel. "That makes me afraid." He looked up at Dean as though Dean could make some sense out of it. "I think. At least I think what this is . . ." His hands swirled around in front of his chest. ". . . inside is fear."

"You think it's fear."

Sam gave him that new bitchfaceshrug. "Best I can do. It's in my head. And it's in my chest. But the two aren't quite connecting. I'm sorry."

Dean hated when Sam said he was sorry like that, because he wasn't sorry. He couldn't _feel_ being sorry. But this other stuff, afraid of Hell's pain . . . well, Dean guessed that was large enough to put the scare in anyone's bones, even soulless Sammy bones.

He placed his hand on the younger hunter's shoulder whether Sam wanted him to or not. "Don't worry about this. You're not going back to Hell. And Cas . . . Cas can fix this up."

"I'm not worried."

"No. But you're afraid," Dean countered, and wasn't it a crazy screwed up thing that Dean felt even remotely happy about his little brother being afraid. "Cas!"

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Keeper of Souls Chapter 2**

"Thanks for coming, Cas."

"Of course." The angel had zapped them from the woodland to their current hotel room. "Are you certain Sam's soul is no longer in Hell? You know demons lie."

Dean glanced over at Sam, fully healed and rummaging through his tidy pack for a fresh unbloodied shirt. "Of course I know demons lie. Everyone lies. Angels too. No offense. But on this, I don't think so." Dean scrubbed a hand back through his hair. "So where else could it be? 'Cause, Cas, we got nothing. No leads –"

"There's one resource." Castiel blinked out of sight, kicking up an unseen flutter of wings in his wake.

"That's just great," Dean muttered, turning toward Sam, but coming face to face with Castiel instead. He had a hold of the angel-turned-dealer Balthazar by the arm.

"You call this being even?" Balthazar shook his arm out of Castiel's grasp.

"I'll owe you another favor. This is important," Castiel nearly growled.

Balthazar's lips puckered. "Oh I like that. Sherriff of Heaven owing me. All right then. What'd you need? I'm guessing it has to do with these two mucking up the title fight of the millennium. You know I had good money wagered on that."

"You're breaking my heart," Dean grouched.

"What were the odds?" Sam drew near.

"Sam!" Dean snapped.

Sam shrugged. "Just wondering."

Castiel's lowered eyes jerked up. "Balthazar, you've been dealing for souls to sell. Have you had any dealings to do with Sam Winchester's soul?"

Dean went very still, waiting for the angel to answer.

"Who . . . and several whats . . . hasn't offered me a deal to get it for them? Multiple parties are after Sam Winchester's bright and shiny."

"Why?" Sam's head cocked.

Balthazar stared at him. "You really have no idea, do you? Think your soul's all tarnished and banged up, is it? That those souls who have only known good, made all the correct choices, worked at soup kitchens in their spare time would have more value?

"Where you, someone who has screwed up time and time again, yet in the end, redeemed himself would have no worth? You monkeys have no comprehension of what makes something valuable. Compared to the soul of a redeemed man, those other souls are like the flame of a lit match next to the sun.

"I get requests daily for just one piece of your soul, and I'll tell you in truth, I'd barter for it in a heartbeat." Balthazar turned to Castiel. "But I don't know where it is."

"Who's looking for it then?" Castiel leaned into Balthazar's face. "Names."

"Broker, client privilege, old fella." Balthazar looked at the shine of his nails like he was bored.

Castiel wasn't so easily put off. "Names. Now."

"You know I won't do that. My discretion is what keeps me in business. Besides, it doesn't matter. No one has it. Not through me at any rate. And it's all kinds looking for it. Demons, Witches, Demi-gods, Alphas, Angels. No one knows where it is, which is rather odd, considering a soul that radiant couldn't just be bouncing around the world without throwing off a beacon like a radioactive lighthouse."

"It has to be contained somewhere. Hidden." Castiel frowned, making lines crease his forehead.

"So we find out who hid it?" Dean zeroed in on the main point He'd been following the angel's conversation with growing apprehension. It wasn't bad enough he'd been stuck with Wooden Boy as a sidekick, but all the usual fuglies were still after his brother's soul. Would the kid never catch a break? "If it's throwing off such a large spark, there shouldn't be that many places to hide it. Narrow down the possibilities."

"That's exactly the problem." Castiel whirled away and started pacing. "If Hell didn't have the resources to contain it, there really can't be too many other possibilities."

"Heaven?"

"Nope. Not there," Balthazar was quick to answer. "I've searched."

"Bet you have." Sam's voice went quiet. "Then what about Purgatory?"

"No." Balthazar put his hand up. "Just trust me on that one."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "You know where Purgatory is?"

"I know your soul isn't there and that's all you're going to get." Balthazar looked to Castiel. "One favor, brother. Focus on the problem at hand."

Lips tight, Castiel nodded. "Sam's soul would have to be contained in something that could hold it. Something its equal."

"So . . . " Dean felt like a kindergartner trying to do calculus. "Something large."

"Not necessarily." Cas's pacing slapped across the carpet. "Equal as in likeness. It works the same way as trying to pour new wine into an old bottle. The bottle and wine have to age together or the bottle will shatter, ruining the wine. The container would have to be something that has also known evil, wrong choices, and redemption . . ."

Both Balthazar and Castiel turned to look at Dean. Dean shrank back, not liking the intensity of their stares.

"Has his personality changed at all?" Balthazar stepped closer.

"He is more emotional. He cries a lot."

Dean shifted back. "Screw you. I do not."

"And gets angry."

"And that's not like him?"

"Not to this degree, no. That's the usual . . ." Cas flashed air quotes ". . . MO . . . of Sam Winchester."

"Huh." Sam crossed his arms over his chest.

Both angels moved into Dean's personal space. Balthazar grasped Dean's face, pulled his eyelid up the same way Cas had once done to Sam. "How do you feel?"

"Right now? All kinds of creeped."

He glanced back and forth between two sets of curious eyes. "Oh come on! You think I have Sam's soul?"

"It's possible." Balthazar twisted to look in Dean's ear. "From what I've heard of these two, he'd be so accustomed to his brother, so attuned his entire life, he'd never feel it as anything alien inside him because their souls have always been interwoven."

"You're serious?" As the angels moved closer to Dean, Sam stepped farther away.

All of Castiel's focus seemed to pour into Dean. "It should have occurred to me before. In a very literal sense you have always been the keeper of Sam's soul. Once it was set adrift from Hell, unable to find Sam's body, it would seek out what is familiar. I'm sorry, but it does make a strange sort of logic."

"No it doesn't." Dean backed away until he felt the bed behind him. "Don't you think if I had Sam's soul hitchhiking I'd know it?"

"No," both angels said at once.

"One way to find out." Balthazar extended his hand and Dean jumped onto the bed and scrambled to the other side, snagging a pillow which he put in front of his chest as though that could hold off a determined angel.

"Dean." Castiel moved around the foot of the bed. These were the situations where he really missed his brother, because his Sammy wouldn't just stand there. His Sammy would be shouldering the angels aside or at least trying to reason with Dean with his full on pleading eyes. "Don't you want to know for sure?"

Which was the crux of it. He did want to know. Needed to know the same way his lungs needed oxygen. "Fine." He threw down the pillow. "But you do it, Cas. Don't need a stranger groping around inside all my outstanding wholesomeness."

"Here." Sam had taken off his belt, offered it to Dean. No _sorry you have to go through this, I'll be here with you, just hang on . . ._

Dean just glanced at him and took the belt, placed it between his teeth . . . and a volcano erupted inside him. Way to give a guy warning, Cas. Holy crap, seeing Cas's arm disappear inside his stomach was one thing, but feeling the appendage actually moving around inside his innards was something else altogether, but it's what his brain decided to focus on because focusing on the pain traveling through his system organ by organ, bone to sinew, clenching his muscles, stealing his breath, was damn near agonizingly more than he could take.

He sagged when Cas slid his hand out. At least Sam was there faster than the floor was, pulling him back to sit on the bed, even though his brother released him a mere second later. Dean pulled hard drafts of air back into his heaving lungs. "At least wash your hands next time, would ya?"

Cas lifted his hands, turning them, a frown marring his forehead. "My hands are always clean."

Dean rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. His stomach hurt so bad he wanted to vomit. "Well?"

Castiel glanced up at Sam. "Sam's soul is inside you. Nestled up tight against yours."

Shocked silence thrummed through the room.

Dean felt his world slowly spin off its axis. Or maybe it was just him as he felt himself lean, swaying to the side. Sam's soul had been with him the entire time and he didn't know quite how to feel about that. Profoundly relieved or impossibly icked out. He shuddered, pushing the weirdness of it all away. Sam's soul was here, with him. Safe. It'd been with him all along.

"So how do we get it out of me and back into Sam?"

"We don't," Sam said, moving rapidly to the other bed where he started packing his belongings into his bag.

Dean was on his feet in an instant. "Come again?"

"I don't want it."

"So what, you're just going to take off now?"

"That's right." Sam grabbed his laptop, shoved it into its case. "The only reason I was hunting with you was to get my soul back, keep it from yanking me back to Hell. Now that I know it's in a safe place, what's the point? I'm a better hunter without it. I'm a better hunter without you."

"A safe place? That's all I am to you is a storage locker for your soul?"

Sam zipped his bag closed and shrugged.

"You're a cold-hearted bastard." Dean rounded the bed. "I'm getting my brother back so you're taking your soul back if I have to shove it down your throat."

Sam huffed. Actually huffed. "Do I get a choice in this?"

" No."

"Look." Sam let go of his bag and straightened to his full height. "I didn't fight back last time because I needed your help. But now that I know where my soul is, I will fight you."

Involuntarily, Dean's fists curled. "I'm not letting you walk out that door."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, what does it matter? I'm better this way. Trust me. And my soul . . . it's not hurting you. You aren't experiencing my time in hell. You're not reliving that. You've had it an entire year and you're fine. I don't see how this is a problem."

Balthazar held out his palm. "If neither of you want it, I'll be glad to take it off your hands."

"No," the brothers and Castiel all chimed out like a choir. Dean felt tears slip onto his cheek. Damn emo Sam's feelings bleeding out into his.

"Trust you?" Dean barked. "You can't even trust you. You have no perception to even try and make the right choice here so I'm pulling rank on this one."

"No." Sam crossed his arms. "You can't force this."

"Well two angels and one pissed off older brother trump your whining. Cas, how do we do this thing?"

"I . . ." Cas shrugged and looked to Balthazar who also shrugged. "I imagine I reach inside the two of you and act like a conduit."

Friggin awesome. One cavity violation an hour was more than enough. "All right. Daylight's wasting."

Cas's brows lowered. "It's already night."

"It's an expression. Mean's get your move on."

"Not happening." Sam started backing away, his gaze darting to the door on the other side of the room, marking an escape route. "Don't you have to have my permission or something?"

Cas stopped advancing. "He may have a point. Added to that, we can't be sure what condition Sam may be in once reunited. Forcing it may make things worse."

"Doesn't matter. He'll never give his permission." Dean moved forward. "We'll just have to hope that his soul has better reasoning power than his body."

"Stop!" Sam made his move, swinging out at Dean, but Dean was ready for it and went low, diving to catch the younger man around the waist, crashing against the floor and wall. Sam didn't hold back, fighting with everything he had and Dean wasn't sure he'd be able to hold him this time. Then Cas was there, pushing down against Sam's shoulders, holding him in place as easily as if Sam had all the strength of a five-year-old.

"No! Don't!" Sam's face was red. The veins in his neck were bulging. It was the first unbridled emotion Dean had seen since he came back, until Castiel thrust his hand inside Sam's chest and the kid's head jerked back and his eyes nearly rolled up inside his head. _Just like the seizure in the panic room_, was Dean's last thought before Castiel's other hand plunged into Dean, ripping all thought away under a torrent of strangling pain.

TBC


	3. Final Chapter

**Keeper of Souls - Final Chapter **

Dean grabbed onto the angel's forearm, whether to steady himself or pull the offending appendage out of his stomach he didn't know. He was working only on instinct now, screaming against the torment. Vaguely he heard Sam gasping, panting like a wounded animal.

And he felt it, a tearing within, something ripping away, a thing that was so much a part of him he clawed to hold onto it, grabbing it back in a stranglehold.

"Dean. Stop." Castiel's voice was calm, patient. "Let it go."

Oh but he couldn't. He couldn't. This was Sam. Every instinct told him to keep him safe, protected, cherished within a cocoon of his own making. It was the last vestige he had of his brother. He couldn't just give it up.

"Let it go."

Sam's awful panting slid into his awareness. Sam was hurting. Sam needed him. Sam needed his soul back where it belonged. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, the greatest sacrifice. Straining, resolved, Dean let go, released his hold and felt Sam slide away. The loss of him was more painful than Castiel's probing hand inside him.

Sam's soul wrenched away with a snap and Dean cried out. Light poured into Castiel's arm where it emerged from Dean, glowing beneath the angel's flesh, moving up his shoulder, into his chest, blazing hotly beneath the white shirt. Cas gasped, his chest expanding, holding, expelling only when the light moved on into his other arm, down to his elbow, through his wrist where it stopped, straining, vibrating against Sam's chest.

"Take it, Sam. Let it in," Castiel cooed like a father coaxing an infant.

"Nooo!" Sam ground out between clenched teeth.

"Sam." Dean's voice sounded raw to his own ears.

Sam rolled his head back and forth against the wall. His features were tight enough to burst blood vessels. "Won't. Take. It. Just stop!"

"Sam." Dean pushed outward, felt his own soul shift inside him, moving away, passing through Castiel to touch Sam's soul, give him a little prod the same way he had always done—older brother to younger brother—giving the necessary nudge to get Sam to take that first step into a new school, the first assurance that he'd be able to get off his shot during a hunt, the first nod that allowed Sam to open up after Jess. Soul to soul, Dean supported. Dean encouraged. _Go, little brother, take back what's yours._

And Sam's soul responded, pouring from Castiel into Sam in a rush of piercing roaring light.

Dean's soul rebounded back to him like the snap of a rubber band. Castiel's hands jerked out of the brothers, leaving Dean reeling on his hands and knees. His face jerked up at Sam's scream. He squinted against the radiance. His brother was wreathed in bright light, pulsating translucent through his flesh, nearly too bright to look upon. Sam had curled over onto his side, knees drawn up, fingers bent and groping as though he could dig his way through the floor.

"Sam!" Dean was next to him in a second, trying to pull his sibling's legs down, get him to stop screaming. "Sammy, it's okay!"

"It's not okay! It's not okay! Oh, God, Oh God, I hate you!"

And Dean wanted to laugh, wanted to punch his hands in the air. "I know you do. I hate me too." _He was back, he was back. He had his brother back._

Dean grabbed Sam's hands, pulled them away from the floor, turned the kid in his arms, though Sam resisted, trying to keep his back toward Dean as he cried out, sobbing. Actually sobbing, no holds barred.

"Sammy, Sam, come on."

The glow began to fade. The sobbing quieted into wretched whimpers. Sam rocked back and forth, resisting Dean's attempts to get him to look at him.

Balthazar stooped over them. "Samuel. This is clearly too much for you. I'm sure we can come to suitable terms should you want to make a deal. I promise I'll screen all buyers."

Dean wrenched his head up to glare. "Get out of here! Go!"

"All you have to do is call." With that Balthazar fluttered into thin air. Damn angels.

"Sam. I know this hard, but come on, man, it was the right call. Just . . . just look at me, would ya. Cas, can you do anything?"

Dean looked up when Castiel didn't answer. "Cas?"

The angel stood transfixed, a look of sheer wonder transforming his features.

"Cas!"

Heaven's Sherriff blinked, shook himself like a wet dog.

"A little help here."

"What? Oh. Yes." Cas knelt by them, staring at Sam in near worship. "I had no idea. Your brother's soul . . ."

"Is more than he can handle right now. Fix him."

Cas frowned at Dean, perplexed. "I can't just fix everything. I can't fix this. Sam came back from Hell. You of all people know what that means for him. I don't know if _this_ can be fixed."

"Just go away," Sam moaned. "Both of you. Leave me alone." His body shuddered in Dean's arms.

A whoosh of air blew the young hunter's hair across his forehead.

"Great. _Now_ Castiel's going to take up listening to you. Come on, Sam. At least let's get you up off the floor."

Sam rolled, shoving Dean away. His face was devastated, wet with tears and God it made Dean's heart clench up tight at the emotion radiating off Sam. "Please, Dean, just go away. I can't do this I can't do this. I can't even look at you." He flopped over to his side again, closing up, covering his face in his hands.

"Yes, you can, yes you can. We'll do it together."

"It's all there, Dean, pouring through me. The teeth and the blood and the fire and oh God oh God oh God I let you get Turned by that vampire. I just watched and let it happen. I let it happen I let it happen oh God you could have died and I didn't care and I just watched. You have to go, get away from me."

"Sam! That's enough." Dean grabbed Sam, wrapped his arms around him even though Sam tried to push away. Dean just gripped him tighter. "Not going anywhere."

"But I . . ."

"Wasn't you, man."

"Yes it was. I knew exactly what I was doing." Sam hiccupped and a smile played over Dean's lips, glad that Sam couldn't see it.

"Sam, tell me this. Answer as honestly as you can. Now that you're you, would you let me get Turned?" He felt Sam still, heard the sharp intake of breath.

"No." Sam's voice was small.

Dean waited, let Sam reason it out on his own.

"I'd die before I let that happen. I don't expect you to believe that. I don't ever expect you to trust me. Oh God you need to get away from me. You can't be near me. I don't know why I did that. I'd never do that, but I did. Oh God, Dean. I would die for you."

Dean closed his eyes, nodding, his heart pumping so wildly he thought it'd spin through his chest. "Then look at me."

He waited again for what seemed like an eternity until Sam's head lifted, turned to look up at him, mossy eyes full of regret and hurt and searching Dean's for . . .

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

. . . searching for forgiveness. Dean nodded, his throat too tight to answer yet. Instead he pulled Sam closer and just held on. They had a lot to deal with, maybe too much, but it didn't matter. He held on. He held on. He held on. He wasn't letting go again. He had his brother back and he wasn't letting go.

_Fin_

**Here's the quote that inspired me: **

**From my story **_**What's So Right About That? when Dean was performing CPR**_**: "He breathed again, feeling his own life pour into Sam's." **

**T.L. Arens said: "It makes me wonder at times if it's Dean that rightfully owns Sammy's soul; that Crowley has possession of stolen property."**

**Amazing thought, isn't it?**


End file.
